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When Ray had first suggested that I 'had a thing' for Ms. Scarpa, of course I denied it immediately, and I had been entirely truthful in that denial. As I explained, I didn't know her. The idea of entertaining a romantic relationship with her had not even crossed my mind.
But it had clearly crossed Ray's, and his unprompted insistence that I should not pursue her both irritated and intrigued me. It had not been so long ago that he himself had demonstrated a swift and sudden attraction to a woman on a case, and he had been at times both oblivious to, and dismissive of my blatant disapproval.
And disapprove I most certainly had. Not because I had mistrusted or suspected Luanne, but because it was just so unfair. He would turn his attentions towards a woman he barely knew, but he had not responded to a single one of the hints and lures I had been trying my hardest to tempt him with.
It was still possible that my various overtures had been too obscure, but of course I was not able to be more direct. I could not bring myself to take the risk of outright rejection, as I was still not certain of Ray's response. Sometimes he would come out with some particularly 'queer' turn of phrase that seemed full of insinuations. Sometimes he would look at me and I would see a spark in his eyes, or some body language that spoke to me of clear attraction or desire. But at other times he would openly pursue women, eagerly permit his ex-wife to belittle him, or make some very different kind of comment that led me to the entirely opposite conclusion; that I stood no chance at all, and would be a fool to try.
In this state of uncertainty, with the stakes being the potential destruction of our partnership, the risk was simply too high. Indirect communication was the only method left to me, so I tried to indicate my feelings for him as best I could, without stating them outright. But of course, the inherent problem with trying to communicate indirectly is; how do you tell a passive rejection from total obliviousness? When one cannot even be certain that the message has been understood, how can you know when to stop trying?
I could not know. And so I would continue to indicate my own receptiveness to him as blatantly as I dared, until he stopped me - one way or another.
So I had seen Luanne Russell as an excellent opportunity for me to try again to express myself, even though it ultimately seemed that my efforts had been ineffectual. But if Ray was pre-emptively trying to dissuade me from pursuing Ms. Scarpa, perhaps she could present me with another opportunity, another chance to make myself understood. I decided then to try to test Ray, to see if I could elicit from him the same kind of jealousy that he had evoked in me.
It seemed to work immediately. A simple hand on her arm had Ray turning away in disgust and shaking his head. When I tried to convince him it meant nothing, as of course it did, he insisted once again that I must not 'fall for her'. He pushed down his sunglasses to try to read me more clearly, but it only allowed me to read him in return. What I read told me that my plan appeared to be working.
I knew that he would come to interrupt us, just as he had done before, with Luanne. So I put her in my underwear, and yes, I indulged myself and allowed her to touch me. My back really did hurt a lot. I could not be sure exactly when he would arrive, but in the end I could not have timed it better if I had tried. His reaction to seeing her wearing my underwear was another excellent indication that I was on the right track. His reaction later on to seeing me in my borrowed tuxedo was also rather informative.
However, I found the deception to be stressful. Some people might have found it exciting or thrilling; the lies, the risk, but I could not take much pleasure in it, besides knowing that I was working towards a goal of vital importance to me. I almost thought he had figured me out at one point. "Are you telling me everything?" he asked me accusingly, and of course, I was not. He could clearly tell that there was some element of genuine emotion involved on my part, but he believed that those emotions were directed towards her. He had correctly diagnosed the lovesickness, but still seemed genuinely oblivious as to its target.
Sometimes it was frustrating when Ray could be so obtuse, but I suppose we all have our blind spots. Still, all his various reactions had convinced me that I was correct in my assessment of him. He was exactly as jealous towards Denny Scarpa as I had been towards Luanne Russell. His attraction to me was there, and it was real, I was finally certain that I hadn't been deluding myself about that. But was he consciously aware of how he felt? Was he refraining to act because of the same fear of rejection that I had? Did he miss my signals towards him because he was too busy trying to conceal his own reactions towards me? Or was his attraction to me still subconscious, unacknowledged, unconfronted?
I could not tell. But I felt I had learned something from this brief dip into the world of risk, and from my observation of Ray's reactions to my little test, I finally almost felt confident enough to take this last, most vital gamble. But I would need to wait for exactly the right moment to do it.
So it was when he suggested that we play for air. That was the moment that I was certain it was finally time to call him on his reactions. For even if his choice of wager was unconsciously driven, it showed me the lines that his thoughts were taking. Because of course, we had already established a method for the exchange of air between us.
I demanded the air from him, but he refused, saying it was stupid. I decided to explain his own behavior to him, and then try again. So I asked him directly, "Why didn't you want me to pursue Ms. Scarpa?"
He looked up from his cards and frowned a 'you already know this' sort of frown, and the same feeling was evident in his tone of voice. "Cos she was a liar."
I shook my head. "I don't think that's the real reason," I challenged.
Ray's head flicked back just a tiny bit. "What?" He said snappily, and his tone and posture became defensive. "What other reason you think I got?"
I did not respond to his escalation in tone, and said mildly, "What was the reason that I disapproved of Luanne Russell?"
Ray's frustration was evident again, both in tone and wild gesture. "Cos she was a liar!"
I leaned forwards a little. "But she wasn't."
Ray jerked his head towards his shoulder dismissively. "Yeah, but we didn't know that 'til after."
I shook my head again. "*I* tried for some time to tell you that she wasn't. And I still didn't want you to pursue her."
Ray paused and calmed down a little, now that he could see that there was some kind of point I was making. "...Then why?" he asked curiously. I took a deep breath and put my hand of cards down on the table, which felt very metaphorically appropriate for what I was about to say.
My heart beat frantically as I looked him right in the eye and told him honestly, "I was jealous. I didn't want to see you with anyone else. I wanted to keep you for myself."
"You were... ok... ok... I guess I get that..." he said slowly. I tilted my head and looked at him quizzically, because I didn't think he did get it. When he spoke again, that proved to be the case. "...I wouldn't want to spend any less time with you if I was dating someone either, so I guess I know what you mean. But Fraser, if we're spending *all* our time with each other, when are either of us *ever* going to have any sex?"
He laughed in a self-deprecating and commiserating kind of way, but I just stared at him intently. I made no attempt to control or hide the desire in my expression, and after a moment or two he stopped laughing and stared back at me. His eyes widened and his lips parted in realization. He was so beautiful.
He flinched back just a little bit, and I tried not to take it personally. It was the shock, just surprise, not a rejection. Not yet, anyway. He said "You..." but trailed off and didn't say anything else.
I finished the sentence for him. "I was jealous. And so were you."
I stood up and stepped towards him, looming over him, and he quickly got up as well, putting us back on the same level. His own hand of cards fluttered to the floor unheeded. He looked alert and still maybe a little defensive, but he wasn't trying to dodge past me and get away, and he hadn't denied anything verbally either. Becoming surer by the moment, I stepped a little closer to him, and he stepped back, putting his back against the wall and allowing me to corner him, still staring silently at me with an expression I found to be totally unreadable.
I controlled my nerves and tried to project confidence. I told him again, "I'll take that air now, Ray."
I advanced on him and put one hand on his shoulder, and slid the other hand round the back of his neck, and he stood still and let me do it, watching me with wide eyes. I moved in to kiss him, and his eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting invitingly. I kissed him gently, and for a few moments he responded tentatively and hesitantly. But that was fine, it was wonderful, because at least he had let it get this far. He hadn't pushed me away and fled already, so I thought the likelihood of him doing it now was dropping very rapidly. I kissed him more passionately, and he gave in and relaxed, opening up and showing an increasing enthusiasm.
To finally have what I had wanted for so long, Ray under my hands responding to me more and more eagerly, was so overwhelming. I felt intoxicated by his scent, and the hot wet slide of his mouth, and I grabbed him by the hair and tilted his head so I could have more. He huffed a surprised breath into my mouth, and I considered his debt settled.
At the same time, I felt a movement of air to my left. My hand moved by instinct, and suddenly I was clutching his wrist. I couldn't help but take the opportunity to press it back firmly against the door. Ray made a choked sounding noise into my mouth and shivered, a massive whole-body shudder. I pulled away to see him, without letting go of his wrist. He looked wild, wide-eyed and startled, as if he were shocked at the strength of his own reaction.
Slowly, very slowly, I slid my other hand out of his hair. Without breaking eye contact, I stroked it slowly across his shoulder and down his arm, enjoying the sensation as my fingers slid over the silky material of his shirt, and then the soft warm skin of his forearm. When I reached his wrist and gently encircled it, he shivered again, so I lifted it up and slowly pressed it back against the shelves, and held him there.
"Oh..." he said softly, and his eyes fluttered closed. I surged forward to kiss him again, and pressed him into the corner with both my hands and my body. As my hips pressed into his I felt an answering hardness, and I was filled with incredible joy and relief. My gamble had paid off wonderfully, and his responses were everything I could have ever hoped for. If he reacted this way to having his wrists held, it meant two things. One; that I was luckier than I had ever dreamed, and two; that I should adjust my intended approach to be more forceful. I should keep him excited, keep him feeling nervous and in a state of anticipation. I should see how far he would let me push him.
I released one wrist, and reached down between us and palmed his erection, rubbing him firmly. He wrenched his mouth away from mine, and exclaimed, "Fuck! Fraser! Jesus!" He looked nervously over my shoulder to ensure we were alone, but I already knew that we were, or I would not have started this in the first place. I ignored him and continued to stroke him through the material, and put my mouth on his neck instead, biting at him gently but insistently. "Ahh, fuck!" he gasped, and struggled in my grip weakly, then more frantically, clutching at me with his free hand. "Fraser! Fraser!! Not here!" he finally insisted, which was a perfectly valid protest that I very much approved of.
I released him immediately and took a step back, so that we were at arm's length again. I watched as he recovered himself for a moment, and drew in a shaky breath. Then I snapped my arm back out and grabbed him by his shoulder holster, pulling him towards me and off balance.
"Right then, let's go," I said, turning and tugging him with me. He stumbled after me without protest for a few paces, before twisting his shoulder back, and pulling roughly away. I let go and looked at him steadily for a moment. His expression was possibly the most open I'd ever seen it, showing me outrage, uncertainty, and blazing lust, all in one wild glance.
Even though he was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, I summoned up all of my willpower and turned away from him very deliberately. I picked up our jackets and commanded the dogs. "Dief. Ante."
Diefenbaker was uncharacteristically obedient for once, and jumped up immediately and trotted for the door without any commentary at all, which was gratifying. Ante followed him, and we both looked down at the dogs, then back up at each other at the same moment, and our eyes connected heatedly. Without looking away from him, I gestured after the dogs, and was careful to modulate my tone very precisely so that it was not quite a question, and not quite a statement, and could be interpreted as either one.
"Ray."
He watched me warily for a few unbearably tense moments, and my heart thudded wildly in my chest as I worried I had overplayed my hand to disastrous consequences. Then he took a deep breath, and nodded jerkily and decisively once, then quickly turned and followed my gesture, blasting through the doors energetically. I let out a heavy breath with considerable relief, and went after him.
He was twitchy and tense as he started the car. He seemed not to want to speak, and I could understand why. I didn't want to speak either, didn't want to disturb this deliciously vibrating tension with mundane words. What did we need to say to each other anyway? We both understood what it was that we were going to do.
I watched him as he drove, and found that I couldn't look away, because my terrible secret was finally *out*, and I no longer needed to maintain any pretense of propriety. I gazed at him extravagantly and drank him in, the way he shifted in his seat, the way he tapped his fingers nervously against the wheel. He stopped at a light and looked over at me and saw me staring, doing a little double take, and then twitching uncomfortably under the intensity of my gaze. "...What?" he said, defensively, finally breaking the silence.
"I like watching you," I said simply. "I watch you all the time when you aren't looking," I confessed. He looked away for a moment and then back, looking unsure of himself. I nodded at the road. "The light is green, Ray."
He whipped his head back around and then stared forward fixedly. I smiled as we accelerated away, and then continued watching him hungrily, just because I could. Every so often he looked back around to see if I was still doing it, then wrenched his attention back to the road when he saw I was. He did not speak again while he drove, but continued to twitch and fidget, and I luxuriated in the sight, enjoying the evidence of his nervous anticipation.
It was such an agonizing test of restraint and control, not to just reach out and touch him. My hands twitched intermittently with the thwarted desire. But I reminded myself that if we died in a terrible traffic accident I would never get what I wanted, so I managed to restrain myself until we got through the front door of Ray's apartment. Ante and Dief ran off behind the kitchen counter, likely for the sake of their own privacy, and I shut the door behind us.
Ray turned and stood there frozen, watching me, still saying nothing, so I reached for him. I shoved his suit jacket open and grabbed him by the holster straps again, this time with both hands. I pulled him closer roughly, and he stumbled forward with a gasp. I covered his mouth with mine, and he moaned, the first truly satisfying sound of pleasure I had heard from him. Still holding him, I moved and turned us, and shoved him back against the door. I thrust my erection roughly against his hip, and he pulled his face away and exclaimed again, "Oh fuck!"
As it was right there in front of me, I returned my attention to his neck, and he moaned passionately again, and bucked his hips against me in return. His own excitement was just as evident as mine had been, and it was very reassuring. I no longer doubted his enthusiasm, but I decided it might be time to give him some orders. Both for my own gratification if he followed them, and to give him a last chance to refuse.
So I stepped back and ordered him. "Strip."
He hesitated at that, and I stared him down confidently. He looked back at me for a few seconds but I was not concerned; somehow I could tell that his defiance was just for show. He would do it. And sure enough, after a few moments of watchful silence, he slowly raised his hands and started to loosen his tie, while keeping his eyes on mine. Really, it was a little bit of a shame; I knew it would take considerable effort to get him to put on such a nice suit again, but right now I desperately wanted to watch him remove it. When he took off his holster I licked my lips, and he smirked at that, but didn't speak. I began removing my own tie and shirt, and his movements sped up noticeably, his clothes discarded into a messy pile on the floor. He was naked well before me and watched me back intently with obvious desire as I finished disrobing.
Once we were both naked, I decided to push my luck with a second order. "Fetch your handcuffs." He looked surprised for a moment, then his eyes darkened and I knew he would obey that order as well. But he took his time pretending to deliberate again, and I lost my patience and stepped forward. "Do it now," I demanded.
He flinched then crouched down quickly, hunting through the puddle of clothes on the floor. Finding them, he stood up again, holding them in one hand and looking at them contemplatively, before looking back up at me and swallowing hard. I held out my hand for them, and he gave me both cuffs and keys. "Go and lie down on the bed, on your back," I told him, and he gave me a heated glance, then went without a word.
I left him in there for a minute or two while I picked up and folded his suit, then I entered the bedroom. He was lying on his back as requested, with his arms by his side, eyes closed, fists clenched, practically vibrating with tension. As I approached, he opened his eyes to watch me, and he breathed rapidly but didn't move as I picked up one wrist and guided his arm gently above his head. When I snapped the cuff around his wrist he twitched dramatically, then closed his eyes again briefly as I attached it to the headboard. For the other wrist I used the tie he had been wearing, which I had retrieved from his discarded pile of clothing. Once I finished fastening it, he tested his bonds, straining the material and rattling the cuffs.
I almost asked if he was alright, but it would have spoiled the tension. Plus it seemed entirely unnecessary, since the answer was quite obvious just from looking at his painfully hard erection, and the rather desperate expression on his face. Instead I said, "Beautiful."
His head twitched to one side in perhaps an instinctive denial, but his penis twitched as well, and a red flush started on his face and chest. But I had had enough appetite whetting, and it was time to finally feast. I straddled him to secure his legs, and put my hands on his stomach and ran them up over his ribs until I reached his nipples, which I tweaked firmly. He yelped and bucked, so I held him down and fastened my mouth back onto his neck, continuing to explore with my hands across his chest and his pinned arms.
"Oh god, oh fuck, Fraser!" he cried, pulling noisily on the cuffs again. I bit his collarbone and he moaned equally noisily, and said "Oh god," again.
"Mmm," I said in return, and reached out to grab his erection, stroking it hard. "You're mine now, Ray," I told him, and he whimpered and shuddered and then immediately started to spill in my hand, moaning pitifully. I stroked him through his orgasm, feeling smug and satisfied and desperate to join him in that pleasure, but equally determined to make this last as long as possible.
"Sorry," he gasped, when he was finished.
"I should think so," I replied sternly, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Did I give you permission to do that?"
His shocked, open mouthed expression in response to that was another thing of pure beauty. Then he snapped his mouth shut, and shook his head.
I nodded. "I expect better obedience from you in future," I told him, then bent my head down to his stomach to lick him clean. He shouted and writhed, so I pinned his hips down again. When I was finished, I still didn't want to stop, so I continued to explore his body indulgently with my mouth and hands, making him moan delightfully. When I pulled away to look at him, I was pleased to see that his penis was making a very creditable effort of recovery.
I got off him, and rummaged around in the drawer for the lubricant that I knew to be hidden in there. When I retrieved it and he saw what I had in my hand, he looked surprised and asked, "Hey, how did you know that was there?"
I only smiled and didn't respond, unwilling to verbally confess to the snooping I had done previously. He gave up and dropped his head back, blinking somewhat dazedly at the ceiling. I pushed at his leg to get better access, and he bent his knee and gave me that access without complaint. He whimpered again when I pushed a slick finger inside him, and panted and thrashed his head when I added a second. I teased and stretched him until finally he was babbling and begging.
When I thought he was ready, I put his legs over my shoulders and bent him in half, lifting him up and trying to get the angle right to finally sink into him. However, when I breached his entrance he tensed and hissed "Ah, fuck, stop stop stop." I closed my eyes and held as still as possible, but my control over myself was beginning to diminish, and I quivered under the tension like a taut bowstring. When he let out a breath and relaxed, my hips started moving of their own accord, unable to wait for verbal permission. Fortunately he didn't raise any objection, and I slid into him further and further with each motion. I moaned helplessly as I finally buried myself in him completely, feeling myself come entirely undone.
I had been a fool, I realized. I had thought that I could remain entirely in control, and I had thought that rendering Ray helpless would bolster that control. I had been very wrong, and I felt that control shredding and slipping away from me. I started to thrust into him in earnest, feeling like I was losing my mind with pleasure, and I could only hope and pray that he would not tell me to stop again, because I was not certain that I would be able to.
But my luck held, and Ray only gasped and moaned ecstatically as I took him, holding nothing back. There was not a shred of reticence, no embarrassment or shame in him, for having relinquished control to me. He seemed happy to take anything I chose to give him, and I was overwhelmed by an incredible storm of emotions, feeling disturbed and deeply contradictory as I felt both an unbearably tender love and devotion, at the same time as a terrifyingly aggressive urge for domination and control.
It broke me, and I could not hold back any longer. I wanted to reach down and touch him, but the way I was holding him up left me with no free hands, and of course, he had the same difficulty. I decided to try an alternative method of provocation. "Are you ready?" I asked him. "I want you to come when I do," I told him.
"Nuh," he gasped. "Can't."
"Of course you can," I told him firmly. "You're mine, and I've told you what to do, and you're going to do it. Come for me now, Ray."
He closed his eyes and whimpered, and the very last threads of control within me finally snapped. I thrust into him hard, heedlessly, only desperate to pursue my own climax. I moaned loudly when it overtook me, shaking me with ecstasy as I buried myself within him deeply, pouring into him and feeling him clench hard around me as he managed to obey my instruction.
When I came back to myself, I pulled out of him and put him down, and he lay still with his eyes closed, motionless but for his heaving chest as he breathed harshly. I untied my knots and unlocked his handcuffs but, worryingly, he didn't move his arms back down. I did that for him, rearranging him, wiping him off, then holding him and rolling us both so that he was draped over my chest.
"Mmmmmmmmm", he mumbled lazily and contentedly, and I was very grateful for the expression of satisfaction. My earlier confidence had drained away, and I suddenly found that I was shaking. My posture of dominance over him was all a sham, I suddenly understood. It was in fact I who had enslaved myself to him, and surely I should have expected nothing less, considering what I already knew of the nature of love. Because now all my future happiness rested in his hands, and those hands were now free and he could do as he pleased with them.
Ray clearly felt the trembling in my body, and he looked up at me and asked "You ok Frase?"
I was dismayed at my behavior; it really should be me asking that question of him, and I opened my mouth to say as much. But it seemed that I still had no control left over myself, because different words came out. "I need you to let me do that again."
He looked alarmed. "What, now?"
"No, no," I reassured him hastily. "Later."
He relaxed. "Oh. Okay. That's fine then," he mumbled, then added, "Whatever you want Frase - I'm all yours." He settled his head back down on my chest, closed his eyes and fell asleep, as though his incredible declaration were entirely trivial. I clutched him as tightly as I dared, and breathed deeply, trying to calm myself.
The gambling was over, I reassured myself. The element of risk was eliminated, and there was no further need for me to deceive or bluff, or fret about the outcome, because I already had the jackpot in my hands.
I had won.